This article was updated Sep 2, 2026 to include new developments in the Green River area.

My family first moved to Asheville, North Carolina, in the summer of 2008. My whole life
before that we had lived in flat areas with no whitewater, first in Tallahassee, Florida, then Carry,
North Carolina. My father had been a kayaker well before this and still had an old Pirouette
from that time which he ended up selling when we moved back to the mountains. The person that
quickly bought this boat was one of the paddlers in the earlier years of the Green Race and
acquired it to be his new boat for training and racing. Along with cash, he gave my dad a poster
of the rapids on the Green River Narrows because he was featured paddling in it. My dad placed
it on the wall of our basement, where it is still displayed fourteen years later.

I remember spending lots of time looking at the poster as a kid and being interested in the
complexity, diversity, and difficulty of the rapids. I became more fascinated with it when I was told
that the river was less than an hour from our house, and fed into the Lower Green which was one
of the rivers that allowed me to build fundamental skills for paddling. While I would not see the
Narrows in person for many years after first seeing the poster, I knew it was something I would
want to experience for myself if I ever became qualified.

Over the years I progressed, moving up from the Lower Green, to the Nantahala, then the
Pigeon, Ocoee, Tellico, and so forth. I began running the Upper Green which only fueled my
desire to one day run the Narrows, as I had now run two out of the three sections of the river.
In my early teens, my dad finally hiked in with me to watch the Green Race. This was my first
time seeing the section in person and I thought it was awesome. The rapids were steeper, tighter,
and more dangerous than I could have imagined. While I was not in a boat that day, it was one of
my most important days as a paddler as it showed me how much more I needed to improve to be
where I wanted, but also gave me a definitive goal to work towards: running Gorilla. This was
one of the rapids on the poster that always stood out to me because of how the whole river
channeled into a drop no wider than a picnic table, appearing to be unrunnable from a first
glance.

Later in my teens, I started running more advanced creeks and began the time of really pushing
my limits. I became obsessed with class V and V+ rapids, specifically those that require precision
and confidence in abilities. These upper class rapids often feature large drops, obstructions,
unavoidable waves and very little room for error. All applicable whitewater safety gear is a must
when running these lines. It got to the point where I would hop onto an adventure with anyone
I knew just to explore a new creek. I began running rivers that are much larger, more dangerous,
and subjectively more difficult than the Narrows such as Thompson Creek, Harper Creek Falls,
an Upper Gauley lap at 8,000 cfs, and high flow Nantahala Cascades. Throughout this time I was
expressing interest in the Narrows to my friends that had the ability to take me down, but
because I was so reliant on where other people were going it just did not happen for about
another two years. I had become the paddler I wanted to be, but still badly wanted to run the
Green Narrows.

In the Summer of 2020, I finally had the chance to run Narrows for the first time. The crew I was
with was great and made sure to take it rapid-by-rapid, providing plenty of beta for each drop. I
did not run any of the big three that day, but I did not care. I knew that my experience on my first
run was important because I had put so much weight into it, so running everything clean and
sticking to the lines gave me a huge boost in confidence. It also confirmed that working towards
running Gorilla was a realistic goal at that point.

Two years later in the Summer of 2022, on my fourth lap on the Green, I completed my goal. It
was a weekend lap with some of my coworkers at a nearby summer camp. I had no intention of
running it when going into the gorge, as it had been almost a year since my last time being on
that river. Things started going as well as they could though, and all four of the people in my
group were acing lines and having a blast. We got to Go Left, which I had only run once before at
this point, and I decided to send it. I had a very clean run and did not slam into any rocks, which
made me feel even better at that point. We worked our way down to Gorilla, and by then everyone
else was leaning towards running it. We looked at the notch and the drop, and decided it was looking
good so everyone else decided to run it. I made the decision to run it if I thought everyone else felt
good after giving it a go. They all went, and each made it look great by having no issues through the
notch or going off the lip. At that point, I decided to try it.

I knew that while I did not have to, there would not be many chances better than this because of
how perfectly in-tune everything felt. While my nerves were through the roof, I felt a confidence
about sending the drop that had not been there any of the other times, and I knew that because
this feeling came to me and was not forced, I was ready to run it.

I hopped in my boat, gave myself one last pep talk, and headed to the notch. I made it through
and found myself sitting in the eddy right above the drop I had wanted to run ever since I first
saw it on that poster as a young kid. After a few more moments, I sent it because I knew the
longer I waited the more nervous I would get. I made sure I was lined up at the lip and
everything else took care of itself. Going down the drop was a blur, but I felt myself skip off the
landing and through Speed Trap, which was about where I regained my ability to see what I was
doing. Running Gorilla was great, but the feeling of knowing I had achieved my goal at the
bottom was even better.

In late 2024 Hurricane Helene extensively affected the western waters of North Carolina and
Gorilla was no exception. The hurricane shifted the run notably relegating the Notch to kayaking
history. It’s hard to believe that in such a short amount of time a feature can be altered forever.
Something that captured your awe and became a life goal that was then achieved after years of
dedication and improvement. To think that the upcoming generation of kayakers will not be able
run the Notch and experience the feeling of finally doing it is reason for reflection. But where there
is change there is adventure and the chance to drop a boat into the next section of history and
experience the completion of whole new challenges.

A little while after I completed my run, I was talking to a boater passing through right below
Sunshine. I told him I had just run Gorilla and was glad I did because I felt that if I didn’t that day,
I may never have. He responded with something that will always stick with me. He said that he
walked around Gorilla 199 times before it finally felt right on his 200th lap. So for anybody feeling
that sort of pressure about an intimidating river feature, just know you will feel when the time is
right, and that there is no rush!

By: Sam Fleming